*Yep, you guessed it—spoilers abound!
For the uninitiated (i.e., those who didn’t read my last post): Burden of Truth depicts Joanna, an up-and-coming New York lawyer, who is sent to small-town Millwood to defend her firm’s client, only to switch sides when she realizes that someone needs to held accountable for the mysterious illness befalling young women in the town. Of course, this plot is made more complicated by the fact that Millwood was once Joanna’s hometown, and the longer she is there, the more she uncovers about her father’s sordid past—not to mention the dramatic ups and downs of the legal case itself. Ultimately, this show is as much about her search for the truth as it is her (and others’) decision to embrace it.
Now for my review.
The vast majority of aspects of this show—acting, writing, plotting—were solid. Between the desire for justice for the afflicted girls, the curiosity as to the illness’s cause, and the engaging tensions within both the town and main characters’ moral centers, there’s a host of reasons to get hooked. And because so much was so good, I am going to start by describing the select few issues I encountered while watching.
First up is the not-quite-filled-in backstory for the principal characters. For instance, the later it got in the season, the more frequently I found myself asking, “has Joanna’s conscience gotten in the way of previous casework?” This is because though she’s introduced as her father’s favorite (and firm’s best) up-and-coming lawyer, and it’s later revealed that she regularly engaged in illegal (e.g., coaching an expert witness to lie) or dirty (e.g., burying smaller firms in paperwork, calling in gas leaks to disrupt opponents’ work, or getting an 18-year-old to sign a settlement) techniques to win cases, once she quits, both her coworker Alan and her father act like she was never cut out for such amoral lawyering.
It’s just unclear to me whether the Millwood case is meant to function as Joanna’s moral awakening or her breaking point. And if it’s the latter, as the show seems to suggest, I needed more evidence of Joanna’s conscience interfering with previous cases. In the pilot, she seemed perfectly content at her law firm (not that we spent much time there), but after a brief time in Millwood, she quickly realized that she didn’t want to be “the bad guy” anymore. It wasn’t that she seemed not to have a conscience at the beginning, rather that she was complicit in how her firm operated, even as she felt bad for the sick girls. As it is, I can only turn to the oft-quoted “don’t get emotionally involved in cases” rule for an explanation: Joanna could have been emotionally shut off to the repercussions of her legal actions until she returned to Millwood, what with its personal and professional appeals. Even so, it comes across as an unnecessary lack of clarity on the writers’ part.
In a similar fashion, I could have used a bit more clarification in the way of Joanna’s relationship with her father, David. Obviously, the two story arcs were meant to be intertwined—after she returns to Millwood, Joanna finds a way to confront both the amorality in her law firm and the amorality in her father, leading her to cut ties with both. But again, in the pilot, I don’t recall any signs that their relationship was fraught. I got the impression that he was a single father who had raised his daughter in his image, so that they could go out and kick legal ass together. Though they’re only together in New York for a brief time, they show no signs of having qualms with one another on either a personal or professional basis—Joanna’s certainly surprised, to say the least, to learn of her father’s numerous affairs and general persona non grata status in Millwood.
The problem is, later on, Joanna claims repeatedly that “all her father knows how to do is win at all costs” and that she doesn’t want to “be like him,” insinuating that she’s felt this way for many years, not just weeks. And while this sort of “sneaking suspicions leading to a bold act” arc is certainly preferable to a sudden and unexplained change in character, it wasn’t well-enough established for me. Like Joanna’s sudden departure from Millwood, there’s a hair too much character development omitted between that event and her return to her childhood town.
What frustrates me most, though, is how easily both these omissions could have been solved. All I needed was to see some cracks in the father/daughter relationship before Joanna left for Millwood (beyond her father’s insistence that she not go), or to hear some expositional dialogue to show Joanna disapproved of her father’s tactics before she quit her firm. As it is, I’m still not sure exactly what happened when the Hanley family left Millwood (beyond the vagueness of her father’s sins “catching up with him”), or how Joanna felt about it; her answers to being asked that question approximately 500 times led me to believe she never really thought twice about it… which makes me think, neither did the show’s writers.
Nevertheless, beyond those somewhat nit-picky issues, and I really did enjoy this show. Kreuk sold the hell out of every scene she was in, from her small, tear-laced smiles, to her badass showdowns with various Millwood enemies. She created a complete character, one who was often vulnerable and confused personally, but confident and even impetuous professionally, yet never to the point of melodrama (which wouldn’t have been uncalled for, given the situation). Honestly, at many times, I caught myself wishing I could see less of the girls’ stories and more of Kreuk, if only because the latter’s internal struggle was more multifaceted, as she was caught between her curiosity and not-so-blissful ignorance regarding her family’s past.
What's more, buoying up the acting was a satisfying, compelling plot. This is the show, after all, that pushed me to realize my love for stories that grapple with morality. Given the nature of the lawsuit and the tensions within the town, the questions of “what is right” and “how to do what's right even when it’s hard” are forefront for the whole season, resonating with all major storylines.
On the amoral side, we have Ben Matheson, whose decision to cut corners with his business’s toxic waste disposal is the root of the youths’ health issues, a.k.a. the catalyst of everything in Burden of Truth. He didn’t mean to make anyone sick, of course—he only meant to “save the mill” and make some extra money. But even after his own daughter became ill, he refused to fess up, trying only to keep his past misdeeds a secret from everyone. We watch as this attachment to his lie only further pushes his daughter away, first emotionally, and then physically; the season finale sees her boarding a bus. As such, his karma is anything but subtle; in placing his reputation above his morality—in protecting his daughter’s image of him instead of protecting her—he loses the person he loves the most. It’s practically a perfect echo of Joanna’s own break with her father, upon discovering his past and present misdeeds and lies. Though Ben, at least, seems capable of feeling ashamed; I have to believe he was hardcore lying to himself as well as everyone else, refusing to believe he could have poisoned his own daughter (like his half-delusional line where he argues that “lung cancer runs in the family”). But really, if the “keeping secrets for other’s protection” defense doesn’t work for superheroes, it sure isn’t gonna work for you, Ben.
Joanna’s father, meanwhile, is the crown prince of amorality. David Hanley has literally made a living of screwing people over for his own personal gain; his name is so hated in Millwood, not only do they not speak it, but they actually removed it from a plaque in the high school. (And let’s not forget that Joanna gets punched in the face just for sharing his last name.) Even within his own family, he threatened and effectively ostracized his wife in order to retain his daughter’s affection (I think because otherwise she would have told Joanna about his infidelity?). The only time I see humanity in him is in his very final scene—final shot, even—when he brags about the bonus he gets for keeping the settlement under 20 million, receives a perfectly deadpan “how clever of you” from Joanna (signaling her being done with him), and then has this slight grimace that conveys a sort of self-disappointment, like he’s upset that he cannot stop himself from taking the low road, from showing the smallest amount of compassion or humility.
The crises of conscience weren’t limited to those two men—far from it. There was Nate, the mill worker/whistleblower who was balancing his loyalty to his friends and coworkers with that to his town and the victims; there were the girls, especially Molly and Luna, grappling with their hopes for their solo futures and their attachment to one another; then there was the corrupt cop subplot with Owen, which never really ties in to the court case, but does offer another iteration of “accepting bribes versus doing the right thing” and the consequences of each (though how there’s enough money in that small town to make corruption profitable, I have no idea). Additionally, in a macro view, there’s the general townsfolk, each of whom have to decide whether to side with the town’s biggest job creator or the few sick youths in their community (another money vs morality theme), not to mention the appeal of opposing a Hanley on principle.
All of this tension and uncertainty leaves few people firmly on the side of good. While others battle with the question of “what is right,” our protagonists are instead confronted with the question of “what am I willing to sacrifice to pursue what I believe is right?” Or in other words, "what am I willing to sacrifice to pursue the truth?"
Leading the moral side of things is Billy, the town lawyer. As we eventually learn, Billy discovered early on in his career that he wasn’t cut out for the morally compromising situations brought about by major lawsuits. But in fact, this steadfast morality makes him the ideal companion for Joanna, who leaves and re-joins the prosecution a surprising number of times in just 10 episodes, as she encounters a multitude of personal and professional crises (coupled with a dangerous dose of impulsiveness); though Joanna supplies the major surges forward in the case, it is Billy who keeps the case alive, providing a dedicated, driving force for the prosecution. Throughout the season, Billy must navigate his personal attachment to the case—his niece being one of the victims—as well as act as Joanna’s emotional counselor. His role as the heart of the team cannot be given enough credit.
But of course, the entire season is framed through Joanna’s eyes. As she puts her keen mind to the task of uncovering the true cause of the girls’ illness—and then, more importantly, how to actually prove causation—she must also come to terms with the truth about her family’s past in Millwood. Overhauling decades of memories and beliefs, she manages to cut ties with her unrepentant father (and his despised surname), re-establish a bond with her mother, and discover her half-sister, all while struggling with the question of whether she is destined to become her father and taking it upon herself to atone for her father’s sins. Sure, she hijacks and abandons Billy’s lawsuit with alarming frequency, making the case as much about herself as the girls. But her self-doubt and indecisiveness, balanced with her strong will and compassion, ultimately function to infuse the case with overwhelming pathos, and to double its significance (as it’s a win for both the victims and Joanna, personally). She sacrifices her money, her reputation, her job, and nearly her license in the process, but would be the first to say it was all worth it. Joanna rides the tide of her moral awakening, inspiring coworkers, friends, and even enemies in her wake. I must note, however, that though the finale sees her opposing her father (and by extension, her former beliefs) in court, in a simultaneously satisfying and morally conflicting end, Joanna wins the case only by exploiting (i.e., blackmailing) her father and his past, secret crimes.
Will the act of doing the wrong thing for the right reasons haunt Joanna, as she strikes out on her own? Will the settlement bankrupt the mill, and thus the town? Will the rifts created by the lawsuit tear the community apart? Will Ben or David relent, and try to be one of “the good guys” for once? These questions may or may not be addressed in season 2 (which has been confirmed). But at least in season 1, Burden of Truth does its name justice, making you consider the damage done when long-buried misdeeds and lies are finally exposed to the light.
